


The Habit I Just Can't Seem To Kick

by misslucyjane



Series: Sinnerman [2]
Category: Constantine (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 50 reasons to have sex, Bisexual John Constantine, Bisexual Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Caretaking, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Singing, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Soft sex, author loves music so brace yourself, canon mashup, meaningful musical choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: The one good thing about Los Angeles is that John always has a place to stay.The bad thing aboutthatis the pesky emotions that keep showing up with him.
Relationships: John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Sinnerman [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894249
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138
Collections: 50 reasons to have sex





	The Habit I Just Can't Seem To Kick

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by 50 Reasons to Have Sex #7: Bangin' for Roof.

Los Angeles does not impress John Constantine. It's dirty and crowded, and the traffic is always terrible. It's even worse on days like this, when John has been literally wrestling with literal demons, and just wants to lie down and recover for the next, say, week.

The only good thing about Los Angeles, as far as John is concerned, is that he has a place to stay. And even that comes with a price.

Well, he's up for it. Or he will be once he's had a chance to lie down and maybe a Guinness for nourishment.

He's never dropped in on Lucifer uninvited before, but there's a first time for everything. The bouncer remembers him, at least, and lets him into Lux with a nod. His leather bag in hand, John makes his way through the flowing crowd of the young and fabulous, until he reaches the main floor of Lux. Lucifer's penthouse will be quiet in comparison, situated as it is high above the city, and much less haunted than, say, the Chelsea Hotel. The noise of Lux barely penetrates Lucifer's actual home.

But before he can collapse onto Lucifer's very big and very comfortable bed, he has to find Lucifer and convince him to let John stay. Lucifer really likes spending time in the nightclub itself, so if John wants to spend time with Lucifer, he's got to do it at Lux, at least for an hour or two.

John wants to spend time with Lucifer. He chooses not to examine this. There's a lot about his relationship with Lucifer that John chooses not to examine.

John pauses in the balcony that overlooks the club, and leans his elbows on the railing, his bag tucked between his feet. The dance floor is a mass of gyrating bodies, dancing their existential dread away for the night. John isn't wild about electronica, but he recognizes the need to move. When he was their age, he would throw himself into mosh pits with the same determined abandon.

He's not here to contemplate the nature of existence as reflected by dance music. He scans the club for Lucifer. Normally he's easy to spot -- the tallest man in the room, dark and handsome and charming, elegance barely covering his aura of danger.

John smiles wryly to himself. _Sound a little more like a lovesick schoolboy, why don't you?_ he thinks and reaches into the inner pocket of his trench coat for a pack of cigarettes.

He's about to light up when the woman next to him stares at him and clears her throat meaningfully.

John removes the cigarette from his mouth. "Got an itch in your throat, luv?"

"No smoking indoors!"

John snorts and sighs, and puts the cigarette back in its pack. "Bloody Californians," he says as he puts the pack and lighter away. The sooner he finds Lucifer, the better.

As John makes his way through the crowd, it occurs to him he could just go to the penthouse without speaking to Lucifer first. If they had a different sort of friendship, and John feels it's presumptuous to call their relationship friendship, he might simply let himself into the penthouse and fall asleep in Lucifer's bed, and let the consequences come as they may. If he'd seen Lucifer more recently, he might do that. If he thought Lucifer would get a kick out of it, he might.

He's too tired and sore to make assumptions, especially the kind that may force him to find another place to stay or even a promising park bench tonight. No, it's simpler to find Lucifer first.

It's hard to see, between the darkness of a nightclub and the lights pulsing along to the music. John takes a stool at the bar, eyes still on the dance floor. It's a good view here, but he still can't see Lucifer anywhere. He could be in a dark corner or upstairs already, or out on the town, or in another city. Lucifer doesn't sit around waiting for anyone, let alone for John Constantine to just _show up_ \--

There are shouts of delight from the staircase. A tall figure stands at the top of the stairs, his silk shirt glinting purple in the neon and flashing lights. John barely hears the bartender ask, "What can I get you tonight, sir?" as he watches Lucifer watch his ... what would you call them? Minions? Followers? Children? All of these innocents, or mostly innocent, throwing themselves into pleasure with such hedonism.

The beat drops and the crowd shouts, and as the pattern of the lights change to match, Lucifer descends the stairs and moves through the crowd. People reach out to touch him as he passes, kiss his cheek, stroke his sleeve -- but he accepts the kisses, removes the hands, moves away easily with a disarming smile. Maze falls into step beside him, her steady gaze enough to part the crowd in front of her.

Lucifer takes a seat on a banquette. A waitress brings him a drink, and Lucifer winks at her. His face goes into neutral lines as he leans back and has a sip.

John picks up the glass of Guinness the bartender served him, and has a sip, too. He absently caresses the curves of the pilsner glass with his thumb as he watches Lucifer.

People come to Lucifer. Some talk while they stand and some sit beside him, some get kissed and some shake his hand. One man, his wrinkled khaki trousers and garishly-printed shirt awkwardly out of place in Lux, even bursts into tears and hugs Lucifer until Maze tugs him away.

Lucifer watches this man go, and then looks towards the bar. His gaze meets John's. John salutes him with the glass of Guinness.

His eyes still on John, Lucifer beckons Maze to him and whispers in her ear. She glances in John's direction -- she's not warm towards him, but she's also not seething with hatred, so, win -- and then leaves Lucifer's side to have a word with the DJ. Her message quickly delivered, she returns to Lucifer.

John expects Maze to fetch him, or for Lucifer to summon him, but instead the music slows and there's no sign from Lucifer that John should join him. John sips his Guinness, still watching Lucifer as he continues to hold court for the desperate and lustful.

Maybe that's a good word for these people. His court. His citizenry. The people who inhabit Lucifer's world, while John is just a tourist here.

The music reduces to a single sound -- a heartbeat. It then fades to silence. The overhead lights go down and a single spotlight shines on the center of the club.

Specifically, on the piano in the center of the club.

People begin to applaud, while others look confused -- Isn't this a nightclub, not a piano bar? is written on their faces. John thinks, _It's a little of both, children._

Lucifer comes out of the shadows and sits at the piano bench. He runs his fingertips over the lid, and says into the microphone, "I have a friend visiting tonight. A very old friend. Sometimes I even miss him when we're apart, though he's not much for dancing." A chuckle ripples through the crowd. John shakes his head, smiling to himself.

"Anyway," Lucifer says and ostentatiously opens the piano lid, "this is for him."

John raises his eyebrows, wondering if it's going to be "You Oughta Know." It would suit Lucifer's sense of humor.

The opening chords are soft, gentle. Lucifer opens his mouth and sings.

_Don’t bother saying you’re sorry_  
_Why don’t you come in?_  
_Smoke all my cigarettes again_

_Every time I get no further_  
_How long has it been?_  
_Come on in now_  
_Wipe your feet on my dreams_

_You take up my time_  
_Like some cheap magazine_  
_When I could have been learning something_  
_Oh well, you know what I mean_

_I’ve done this before_  
_And I will do it again_  
_Come on and kill me, baby_  
_While you smile like a friend_  
_Oh, and I’ll come running_  
_Just to do it again_

At that, the club fills with the sound of pounding drums and electric guitar. The club patrons had stopped to listen to Lucifer sing -- now they scream with joy and rush to the dance floor, including the club's dancers in their black and silver costumes, as Lucifer leaps up from the piano, microphone in hand.

_You are that last drink I never should have drunk_  
_You are the body hidden in the trunk_  
_You are the habit I can’t seem to kick_  
_You are my secrets on the front page every week_

He prowls around the dance floor, growling the lyrics along to the pounding beat.

_You are the car I never should have bought_  
_You are the train I never should have caught_  
_You are the cut that makes me hide my face_  
_You are the party that makes me feel my age_

He climbs the steps, surrounded by his dancers. His eyes lock with John's.

_And like a car crash I can see but I just can’t avoid_  
_Like a plane I’ve been told I never should board_  
_Like a film that’s so bad but I gotta stay till the end_  
_Let me tell you now, it’s lucky for you that we’re friends_

Lucifer drops the microphone and grabs John's face, and kisses him hard enough to make John nearly fall off his stool.

He grabs Lucifer by his lapels, and kisses him back as hard and deep as he can. The crowd laughs and cheers, at least until the DJ gets the dance music going again.

Lucifer's grip eases on John's face, and his hands slide down to the base of John's neck. They lean their foreheads together.

"Hello, Luce," John whispers, his eyes still closed.

"Hello, Johnny."

"I know it's been a while."

"Been busy saving the world?"

John huffs. "Trying to, luv." He opens his eyes to look into Lucifer's face, and then has to close them again because, bloody hell, Lucifer is just too beautiful. It will just get him into trouble. It always gets him into trouble. Lucifer is trouble on legs and if John had any sense of self-preservation, he'd stay far away from Lux and Lucifer Morningstar.

John's sense of self-preservation fled about the time he opened his first book of magic.

He says, "Missed you," because despite all his fears and trepidations about Lucifer, it's true.

* * *

Time passes, John's not sure how much. He's not sure how much he's had to drink, or if he's still nursing his first glass. His thigh presses against Lucifer's, and though Lucifer doesn't say a word to him, he wraps his fingers around John's wrist whenever John moves.

People come to speak with Lucifer in a steady stream, and John gets many envious looks for being at Lucifer's side. The music is one unending beat. It's gotten to the point that the ache in John's body centers into a pulse behind John's eyes and in his temples and in the back of his skull. He needs to do something before it flattens him for the night.

He leans closer to Lucifer. "Luce, d'you mind if I go upstairs? You join me later?"

Lucifer slowly blinks and looks at John like a hungry predator noticing his new prey. "You don't like my club, Johnny?"

"I like it just fine. My head's throbbing, is all."

Lucifer has a sip of whiskey, then puts down his glass and gestures at John. "Come here."

"No, this isn't awkward at all," John bitches wearily, but does as he's told, and moves closer to Lucifer. Lucifer grasps him by the shoulders, and directs John to lay his head in Lucifer's lap.

It _is_ awkward, but that only bothers John for a moment. He relaxes and closes his eyes. Lucifer says something to a waitress, and then John feels warm, gentle fingers massaging his scalp.

Oh. _Oh._ It's like someone gently pouring warm water over his head, with just a little pressure at his pulse points and where the bones of his skull meet his spine. A moan escapes John's lips, but he's far too comfortable to be embarrassed about it.

The waitress returns, and John feels an ice-cold glass pressed lightly to his temple. No complaints there, either, as it doesn't stay long, only enough to counteract the excess heat being generated by his own body.

"'s nice," John murmurs. "Feels good."

"Good," Lucifer says. "I intend to have sex with you later and we can't do that if you don't feel well."

John opens his eyes to look up at Lucifer's face -- he's smiling faintly, but his eyes are sharp. A number of snarky remarks cross John's mind, but he just pats Lucifer's cheek and closes his eyes again. Gesture appreciated.

The music and lights and noise retreat as Lucifer alternates between massaging John's scalp and cooling him down with the ice-filled glass. Lucifer handles his business briskly, never mentioning why there's a blond man in a trench coat half-asleep in his lap, and if a supplicant remarks that there's a half-asleep man in his lap, Lucifer replies simply, "Yes, there is."

Time passes. It's lovely.

* * *

"John," John hears eventually. "Wake up, Johnny."

John opens his eyes and sits up slowly. Lux is still crowded and loud, something he had been able to tune out until now.

"Is it closing time?" He rubs his head.

"Not yet," says Lucifer. "I've got some sensitive business to attend to. Wait for me upstairs." He nods towards the staircase that leads to the penthouse. "You may want to sleep a little longer."

Sleep, yes. More sleep in a proper bed, though John suspects the sleep he got under Lucifer's hand is the best sleep he's had or will get. "Ta, luv," John says and kisses him before rising from the banquette.

He's almost too far to hear when Lucifer shouts after him, "And be naked in my bed when I get there!"

John turns back and waves his hand, and climbs the stairs. In the elevator, he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

The elevator comes to a stop with a chime. John lurches out of the elevator and pauses once he's off, just to enjoy the quiet and soft amber lights. The penthouse hasn't changed much since his last visit -- a few art pieces added, a flat-screen TV hung on the wall, the sofas rearranged.

John stows his bag behind the bar, and pours himself a drink. He sips it as he explores -- plays a few notes on the piano, tries out the armchairs, checks if there are any protection wards, sits on the balcony and smokes a cigarette. That done, he finally strips off his trench coat and lays it over one of the sofas. His tie and shirt follow, then shoes, socks, and trousers, all in a trail leading to Lucifer's bed.

Lucifer will appreciate the effort, John suspects. He likes a bit of theatricality.

John pulls back the covers and climbs in. This bed can easily fit four or five energetic friends, and John thinks as he gets comfortable, he wouldn't complain too much if Lucifer decided to bring a few companions to bed.

 _But only if they hurry,_ he thinks as his eyes fall closed.

* * *

John jerks awake out of a nightmare. His heart is racing and his lungs feel cold, and the throbbing in his head that had receded comes roaring back to the forefront. John curses and holds his forehead, as the room swims in and out of his vision.

It takes him another moment to recognize where he is. Amber light from the main room reflects off the carved stone that lines the walls. He can see the tiny lights of Los Angeles through the enormous windows, not bright enough to illuminate the room or even the pre-dawn darkness. Someone has drawn the bedding over him as if they tucked him in. Piano music plays in the main room.

There's a slight weight over his feet. John feels for it, and finds it's a dressing gown of silky material.

John gets out of bed and pulls on the robe, and moves to the top of the steps to watch Lucifer play. This time it's a sultry piece, at least the way Lucifer plays it, and John chuckles quietly when he realizes it's a Buzzcocks tune played at a slower tempo.

He crosses the room and sits at Lucifer's side. "I thought you planned to wake me when you came to bed."

"You were asleep, and I'm not sleepy."

John looks away to hide his smile. "Very kind of you, then, to wait."

Lucifer arches his eyebrow at John. "Has your headache gone?"

"Mostly," John admits.

"Hm." Lucifer seems to turn that over a few times, then says, "Anyway, you were naked in my bed, as requested. I love it when you obey me without question."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, old son." He doesn't think it's obedience, entirely. He has no idea what it is. Desire, maybe, to please Lucifer and thus be pleased himself. He's learned from experience that provoking Lucifer just for the sake of defiance only leads to neither of them getting what they want.

Lucifer chuckles. "I enjoy it very much. The great John Constantine, doing what he's asked. It would shock more people than I can name."

That number keeps shrinking. John says, "No more talk. Sing."

Once more, Lucifer raises an eyebrow at him, but sings without further comment. "'Ever fallen in love with someone," he sings in the same slow tempo, "ever fallen in love with someone, ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with.'"

John would never assume there's meaning to songs Lucifer sings to him, but this choice makes him smile wryly. He wouldn't say the answer to this is 'yes', but he would say he knows the answer.

His relationship with Lucifer is not supposed to involve _emotions_. It's supposed to be a lark, a laugh, a good shag now and then before they return to their respective lives.

But lately... Lately there have been _emotions_. And tonight emotions are definitely present, because Lucifer stroked his head to ease his headache and let him sleep instead of waking him for sex and left him a dressing gown to wear, and John doesn't know what to do with any of that. Such simple things, but kind things. John has never assumed that Lucifer would bother to be kind.

Lucifer brings the song to a close and picks up his drink. He looks at John as he sips.

Whatever Lucifer expects, he gets John's hand on the back of his neck and a long, hungry kiss on his mouth. He tastes like whiskey.

When they part Lucifer whispers, "John," and tugs on the tie of his dressing gown. John shrugs it off and lets it slither to the floor as he throws a leg over Lucifer's lap and straddles his thighs. Lucifer holds him by the waist and rocks against him. John can feel him growing hard through his trousers.

Lucifer starts to unbutton his shirt, but John takes his hands and kisses his knuckles. "Leave it. Fuck me with your clothes on."

"Ooh," Lucifer murmurs and kisses John. "I like that suggestion."

John strokes his hands over Lucifer's shirt. The silk feels divine under his palms. He leans closer to Lucifer, so he can feel the silk against his bare chest, and loops his arms around Lucifer's neck. Their tongues touch and then they're kissing again, deep and slow. Lucifer's hand massages the back of his skull, digging gently into the pressure points.

It occurs to John that he's not alone in having _emotions_ about all of this.

He combs his hands through Lucifer's hair, plays with his ears -- kisses his face, his fragrant neck. Lucifer is a beautiful being and John wants to show his appreciation for that beauty -- the long strong limbs, the tapered fingers and slender waist. Lucifer even has beautiful feet. While John is achy and human and mortal, mostly, grimy and haggard and--

John pulls back from the kiss and rubs the back of Lucifer's neck, breathing hard. He leans their foreheads together.

"Something wrong?" Lucifer whispers. "Does your head hurt too much?"

"No." The throbbing has mostly retreated to a dull ache at the back of his skull. "Having a moment of doubt. It'll pass."

"What sort of doubt?"

Lucifer sounds affronted. John gives him a tired smile. "Doubt about me, not you. You -- you're gorgeous."

"True," Lucifer says, preening a little. "What about that makes you doubt yourself?"

"Not being gorgeous or charming or elegant." He strokes Lucifer's chest through his shirt. "You overwhelm me, Morningstar."

Lucifer laughs, low, and catches John's hands. He places them on the piano keyboard, and runs his hands up John's arms. He nibbles John's bicep, making John arch his back, and Lucifer kisses his chest. "And you, Constantine," he growls, his voice rumbling against John's skin, "sound like you're in need of reassurance. So I reassure you: I only sleep with humans I find beautiful or interesting, and you are both. I like that you understand what I am and aren't afraid. You're all mayhem and magic, and you're a mystery even to me, still." He gazes into John's eyes -- Lucifer's are so deep and intense that John's breath catches. "Every time I ask you what you truly desire, you give me a different answer. Your will is so strong I don't think anything will break it, let alone me, who likes you. You're one of my favorite humans, John Constantine. Don't ever doubt it."

John blinks, then grasps Lucifer's neck and kisses him. "Charming Devil," he mutters, and he starts unbuttoning Lucifer's shirt. "I want your skin after all."

"Take it, have it." Lucifer's head falls back as John lightly scratches over his stomach and sides, gets his mouth on him -- the taut skin over his collarbones, his firm tiny nipples. He scrapes his teeth on Lucifer's chest and Lucifer moans, a sound so gratifying that John shivers.

"I want to do everything with you, Luce." He unzips Lucifer's flies, and wraps his hand around Lucifer's shaft as it juts up between his legs. Lucifer gasps quietly and grasps John by his arse, kneading his cheeks as John strokes his cock.

"So do I, John." He holds John by the waist and wraps his other hand around John's cock. It makes John's legs shake, makes his vision blur for a moment while his breath hitches in his chest. Lucifer sucks his ear, and whispers, "If I let you fuck me, would you do it? Would you like it?"

"Jaysus," John moans. "Yes, I'd do it, I'd like it. I'd love it." And it only took seventeen years to get here, not that he'd minded the wait. When you're having sex with the Devil, you don't quibble about who's on top, as far as John is concerned.

Granted, Lucifer was in Hell for a large portion of those seventeen years, but John feels the point still stands.

"Off," says Lucifer, so John climbs off him, his hands making discordant notes on the keyboard when he leans against it for leverage. He gathers up the dressing gown -- who knows, he might want it later -- and watches, eyes hungry and hands trembling, as Lucifer stands, steps away from the piano, and finishes unbuttoning his shirt. It joins John's on the floor, as do the rest of Lucifer's clothes as Lucifer slowly backs to his bedroom and climbs the steps with nary a stumble.

John rushes up the steps, to throw himself onto Lucifer and Lucifer onto the bed in one move. To his amazement, it works, and they land on the mattress in a pile of laughter and intertwined limbs. John holds Lucifer's head, and the laughter turns into muffled moans as they kiss.

"On your knees," John says when they're both trembling. "Hold onto the headboard."

"Anything you want," Lucifer says simply, and does as John asks. His hands shake as they grip the headboard. There are goosebumps on his legs and arms as John makes him slick with lubed fingers.

John wraps his arms around Lucifer's chest and lines up their hips. He kisses the back of Lucifer's neck and the scars on his shoulder blades where his wings used to be. He pushes into Lucifer, shallow and careful.

Lucifer exhales, his body arching, and he tugs one of John's hands back to his cock. "You can do it harder."

"Mm," says John simply, thinking that if he goes any harder he'll come in an embarrassingly quick amount of time. He pushes deeper, still careful, into Lucifer's tightness and heat. It gets another gratifying gasp from Lucifer, and Lucifer's cock quivers in John's hand.

John touches Lucifer as he pushes into him, one hand tight around Lucifer's cock and the other toying with Lucifer's nipples, lips, stomach. Lucifer's mouth opens when John strokes over it, and he tips back his head to look at John through his lashes. John kisses his temple, and pushes his fingers into Lucifer's mouth. Lucifer sucks them, sending shivers down John's back. He pulls out his fingers and places his hand on Lucifer's forehead, to bend his head back so John can kiss his mouth.

Lucifer grunts and loops an arm around John's head. They kiss and rock together, as the muscles in John's thighs jump, as Lucifer makes keening sounds in his throat and pushes into John's hand.

 _I'm fucking the Devil,_ John thinks at one point, and he quietly laughs. Lucifer looks at him through his lashes again, eyes burning dark like the coals of John's childhood.

"Tell me."

"You," John says and kisses him. "Feels so bloody good. Better than I dreamed."

"You dreamed about fucking me?"

John nods and presses his flushed face against Lucifer's shoulder.

Lucifer quietly laughs and pushes his hand into John's hair. "I'll make all your dreams come true, Johnny. Just ask."

"No doubt," John answers, and licks Lucifer's ear to distract him away from that conversation. John likes him much more than he did when they first met, and even trusts him to a degree, but his soul already has two demons' dibs on it. He's not going to allow a third, not even Lucifer Morningstar.

He has to pause a moment, gather himself. He holds Lucifer around his chest, and Lucifer grinds against him with a grunt of impatience. "Something wrong?"

"Just -- don't want to come yet. Let us catch a breath."

Lucifer snaps his teeth. "Don't take too long or I'll take my rightful place and fuck you into oblivion."

John smiles and squeezes his arm around Lucifer. "You're right where you belong, Morningstar." He grasps Lucifer's hips and yanks them back, so Lucifer is further bent before him. Lucifer gives him a dark look over his shoulder, but bends forward, raising his arse.

This position must work for him, because he moans and writhes and gasps John's name as John fucks him faster and deeper, John's hands firm on his hips. Vaguely John thinks he should close his eyes, the sight of Lucifer taking his dick is almost too much to bear, but it's also too good _not_ to watch. It's a pity Lucifer doesn't have a mirror arranged to reflect the bed -- John suspects they look amazing like this.

 _I'm fucking the Devil,_ he thinks, and he feels so powerful he could challenge Lucifer for Hell's throne.

John shouts, everything overwhelming him at once -- Lucifer's body, the affection he showed earlier, John's own rush of power, the fact that Lucifer's muscles are clenched and ready to pop -- and his face contorts, his body goes tight and then soft as he collapses on Lucifer's back.

He has enough presence of mind to touch Lucifer's cock, one stroke, another, and then Lucifer groans and John feels hot wetness cover his fingers.

Lucifer slumps beneath him, curling around a pillow, and tugs John's arms tight to enfold him. John kisses his shoulder and holds him as requested, stroking Lucifer's arms and chest and face, full of wonder and affection as his mind drifts happily.

As he come back to himself and catches his breath, John realizes that his headache -- indeed, all of the various aches throughout his body, both from his struggle with demons before he came to Lucifer and the ones that have taken up residence and refuse to move out -- are completely gone.

* * *

Lucifer has the advantage of quick recovery time, while John feels every single one of his thirty-mumble years. At least nothing hurts, though he has no idea how long it will last, and he doubts Lucifer knows, either.

John lies on his back with the bedding pulled to his waist, his hands flat on his stomach. The darkness outside has given way to pale grey light. Another complaint John has about Los Angeles -- the sunsets are beautiful, but the sunrises are nothing to write home about.

Lucifer has been watching John for at least ten minutes, head resting on his hand. John suspects Lucifer knows he's awake, but Lucifer has not tried to rouse him. Maybe, like last night, he's letting John sleep.

John takes pity on him, and curls against him, one leg hooked over Lucifer's hip. He kisses Lucifer's mouth, as Lucifer laughs in his chest and gathers John to him.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I was for a bit. Now 'm awake." He kisses Lucifer's neck, where he's warm and smells like clean linens and honest sweat. Lucifer kisses John's arms, and traces John's tattoos with his lips.

"Can you stay a while? I want you to stay a few days."

"I can," John says. He rolls Lucifer onto his back, and Lucifer blinks at him slowly, catlike. "About last night."

"Yes," Lucifer says and pushes a hand into John's hair. "How's your head?"

"Much better. Headache gone. Luci, about last night." He taps his fingers on Lucifer's chest to get his attention. "Someday I may give you my soul, but it would only be for safe-keeping."

Lucifer tilts his head, puzzled, then slides his arms around John's neck. "I don't want you soul, John."

"You don't?" John rests on his elbows, genuinely perplexed. "But you keep offering..."

"What do you think I'm offering?"

"To make my dreams come true. But for that to happen, I'd need to sell my soul to you in exchange."

"Do you?"

John narrows his eyes. "Do I ... not?"

Lucifer laughs and kisses John's hair. "Oh, Johnny, you're so human. Do you want breakfast?" He squirms from beneath John and gets out of bed. "I fancy pancakes. Do you like American pancakes? There's a diner not far from here that has an entire menu of pancakes. Their coffee is extraordinary, too." He passes through the room to the bathroom.

John lies on his back, confused. All this time, he's thought Lucifer was ultimately after his soul. Could he have been ... wrong?

If he wasn't pursuing John's soul, what did he want?

"Johnny! Come take a shower with me!" Lucifer shouts from the bathroom. John decides this is a puzzle to unravel later, and throws back the sheets.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs:  
> \- Like A Friend, Pulp  
> \- Ever Fallen in Love, the Buzzcocks


End file.
